


Cloud Nine

by Jenshih_Blue



Series: Open the Door ~ A Modern Day Fairy Tale in 13 Parts [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue





	

San Francisco had found them fighting once again.

 

Sam was constantly amazed at Dean’s desire for the hunt. It was bordering on childish glee and when Dean was in the zone, there was no way of escaping, Sam had tried, but this time Dean was like a five-year-old. Well, a five-year-old if you gave them a pearl handled, engraved Colt 1911, and a box of blessed silver bullets.

 

When they’d first met Madison, Sam had seen the expression on Dean’s face and he cursed himself for not pushing them back to what they were beneath the masks they wore for society. That’s why he’d argued with Dean about who would stay with her. It had nothing to do with an attraction on his part to Madison, but rather about his own insecurities when it came to his brother. He loved Dean and each time he had to stand by and watch Dean carve another notch in his belt, so to speak, a small part of him died. Yes, he was admitting it, at least to himself. Sam Winchester was jealous of all those nameless women whose faces seemed to bleed into one another. Dean was his, not theirs, and little Sammy didn’t play well with others, especially if they had breasts and a vagina.

 

Of course, as the hours had passed he began to see things in Madison that reminded him of Jess. It wasn’t the way she looked, God knew that because the two women couldn’t have been more different than night from day. It was her attitude. Despite, Jess’ California sunshine, girl-next-door appearance, she’d had a wicked streak in her just like Madison. The panties were a good example of that. Jess had done something similar in a laundry mat when she’d seen Sam giving her sly glances as his clothes tumbled aimlessly in a dryer and he pretended to read the latest John Grisham thriller. Later she told him that he’d been holding the book upside down.

 

The jealousy soon turned to guilt that he could possibly be attracted to this stranger despite how he felt about Dean. Therefore, Sam who’d actually grown a great deal from the shy, stuttering teenager he’d been, reverted back, stumbling over his own tongue, and he knew he was in trouble. He caught Dean giving him odd glances later and maybe what happened next was Dean’s way of avoiding or maybe he just really wanted Sam to make up his mind finally. Who in the hell could ever know with his brother? Dean was like one of those Chinese puzzle boxes that when you thought you had it figured out you looked again and anything you’d assumed was a moot point.

 

One moment was all it was, Sam had thought as Dean had pumped his fist in the air and exited Madison’s apartment to leave them alone with an uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t as if Dean had shown any interest for months. Despite the hand full of nights they’d literally slept in each other’s arms, the sexual side of their relationship seemed to have slipped away like so much mist between Sam's fingers. That was Sam’s reasoning at the time, but weeks later after everything it had dawned on him that Madison had been more about trying to turn the clock back and save Jess or perhaps himself from the darkness and that was something that simply wasn’t possible. Things were never that easy.

 

The sex had been incredible and Sam had relished the feel of thrusting inside a warm body. Even if it wasn’t the body that he desired in his heart and soul, even if the name on his lips when he came wasn’t her name, but a choked sound amazingly close to his brother’s name.

 

After Madison’s death, Dean had coddled him like an infant, or given him the cold shoulder in equal turns. Frankly, he’d begun to suffer from a serious case of whiplash from the quick swing of Dean’s mood. They’d headed south to Los Angeles and the bright lights of Hollywood, his brother’s idea of a good time although Sam had other names for it. The death that had brought them to the studio had turned out to be a fake in an attempt to collect on some free publicity for the movie in question. In Sam’s opinion, it could use all the publicity it could get. Dealing with the supernatural his entire life had soured him on the entire _horror_ movie genre.

 

What soured him, even more, was witnessing his brother practically drooling over the actress, who was starring in the sickening excuse for a movie. He wasn’t used to seeing Dean turn into a blushing, panting, horny fangirl or rather fanboy in this case. He didn’t care much for it either, but he’d never imagined that Dean could score with a Hollywood B-movie starlet who ranked her own private trailer. When Dean had come stumbling out of Tara’s trailer, face flushed, and hair mussed, smelling of sex, Sam had seethed silently.

 

Dean was his. It was that simple and damned if he were going to stand-by and let his brother whore himself out like some fifty-dollar hooker on the corner of Hollywood and Vine. The game they were playing was dangerous at worst and childish at best. Yes, he’d been the one who’d said no more, but then that gave him the right to say enough was enough. Nevertheless, he’d humored Dean as they’d left the studio and driven high into the Hollywood hills to the one spot he knew his brother couldn’t resist.

 

The infamous Hollywood sign that overlooked the smog-shrouded city.

 

It was there that Sam made his move and his mindset, abundantly, clear to all parties involved. Dean had been leaning against the leg of the gigantic ‘H’ babbling on about some starlet from the 20’s or 30’s who’d leapt to her death after her career hadn’t taken off as she suspected, and how hikers still swore they caught glimpses of her ghostly form flitting about in the brush alongside the hill. Sam could have cared god damn less about the stupidity of some girl who’d been ignorant enough to kill herself over not becoming the next Greta Garbo.

 

He’d grabbed Dean, spun him around, and slammed him against the vaunted sign of legend, devouring his mouth as if he were a New York strip fresh off the grill. Dean’s surprise quickly turned to desire as Sam’s hands slid beneath his tee shirt, fingernails grazing his stiff nipples, and Sam’s teeth catching the swell of his lower lip biting hard enough to draw blood. The salty taste of Dean’s blood on his tongue snapped Sam back to reality and he pressed his forehead against his brother’s, the only thing holding Dean up was the sign at his back and Sam pressed against his front. Their breathing was ragged, desperate, and when Sam opened his eyes, he looked straight into Dean’s eyes, pupils huge as saucers, black as pitch, and ringed with moss green. His lips were stained crimson with his own blood and Sam nearly came in his jeans when the rosy tip of his tongue darted out to taste his own blood and Sam’s saliva that glossed his kiss-swollen mouth.

 

“Something you want to say, Sam?” One of Dean’s eyebrows shot up in amusement as he tried to catch his breath.

 

Sam turned away, frustrated, and slammed his fist into the sign, the metal denting with the force of his punch, and his knuckles splitting. “If you want to go, just go.” He growled beneath his breath as he glanced down at his bloodied hand.

 

There was a moment of silence and then Dean cleared his throat. “You’re the one who said no more.” He whispered his words barely audible even in the silence of the hills.

 

“I…” Sam started and then choked on the words he’d planned to say. He couldn’t be angry, could he? Dean was right. He was the one that had pushed Dean away when he should have held him closer, protected him from his grief.  “I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“Do you really think it’s that simple, dude?” Dean’s voice filled with anger, but beneath the anger, Sam could hear what he was really saying.

 

_Will you give your love to me?_

 

Sam shook his head, bangs falling in his eyes. “No…I don’t.” He sighed knowing that Dean would understand his unspoken words as well.

 

_If I fall, all of this is lost._

 

“Then make a decision, Sam.”

 

_Beg my broken heart to beat…_

 

“I can’t, Dean.”

 

_Save my life, change my mind._

 

Dean’s arms curled around his waist as he rested his head in the valley between Sam’s shoulder blades formed by the curve of his spine. “Then there’s nothing more we can do.” He sighed.

 

_Guess it wasn’t real after all._

 

As Dean turned away, his arms dropped, and Sam felt as if he were falling all over again. All he wanted to do was touch the sky, but like Icarus, he’d flown too close to the sun and his wings had melted away. He swallowed back the fear that rose in his throat, bitter and painful, and then turned to watch Dean walking up the incline to the road.

 

 _I have to make this right_ , he thought, _but it’s so damn hard._

 

Sam trailed after Dean, slow at first, his sorrow heavy on his shoulders, and then he began to jog faster. He needed Dean, he’d started this, and yes, Dean had wanted it as well. He knew that without asking, but Dean wanted him all. His brother wouldn’t settle for just part of him, he never did anything half-assed. A hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he met Dean’s gaze over the dusty roof of the Impala and he saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes for a split-second before the mask slipped into place.

 

All Sam could think in the moment was that he wasn’t afraid to dream, but he was afraid of losing Dean.


End file.
